The neckline of her robe shifted, slipping over the creamy swell of her breast to reveal the edge of her black lace bra. I ripped my gaze away, but it was too late. The image was burned into my mind.
Snap out of it. You’ve seen her train in a sports bra for fuck’s sake.
Yeah, well, Olivia in a sports bra was hot, but there was something about that little strip of lace that took us out of the professional zone and launched us straight into the personal one. Hell, I’d seen her in swimsuits that covered way less, but there was just something different here. It was the reason I’d slept on the little sofa that faced the fireplace in our room.
I cleared my throat and concentrated on lining up the tattoo on the top of her wrist, then sucked in a deep breath, hoping it would steady my control. She jolted at the touch, her scent curling around me, invaded me, filling my lungs and thickening my cock.
She flushed and adjusted her robe, pulling the silk to her collarbone.
You fool. There’s no desire in her scent. The thought was more effective than a cold shower. Of course, there wasn’t any desire. She’d never seen me as anything but a teacher and friend.
“Does that look right?” Fuck, now my voice was all low and rough.
“I think so,” she whispered.
“Then let’s get it sealed.” I flashed her a grin. “Ready?”
“Lick away.” Her tone was bright, teasing even, but the color stayed in her cheeks.
Was she embarrassed? Great, I’d somehow managed to make this awkward as hell. I raised her wrist to my lips, then stroked my tongue over the tattoo, sealing the magic—and my scent—into her skin through the thin sheet of paper that carried the ink.
“There we go.” I lifted my head, and she slapped her hand over the tattoo, putting pressure on the mark.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
I leaned back against the bathroom counter and watched her pace the short distance between the gigantic tub and colossal shower.
“Twenty-two, twenty-three,” she counted, color blooming in her cheeks. She reached thirty, then ripped the paper off, revealing the mark on her wrist. “Ta-da!” Her smile wavered.
I lifted my brows and crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” She tossed the paper in the trash can and averted her gaze.
“I mean, it’s been about as awkward as a junior high dance since we got here.”
She rolled her eyes. “How would you know? You’ve never been to a junior high dance.”
“You’re not the only person who watches television.” I picked up the ends of my tie and started the knot. “You’re either nervous or scared. Which is it?”
“Why would you assume it’s either?” She shrugged.
I sighed and dropped the mess I was making of my tie so I could look at her. “Your pulse is all over the place. You’re irritable, flustered, jump any time I get close, and you tossed and turned every five minutes today. I know you, Olivia. What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth like she was about to speak, then shut it again, quickly leaving the bathroom. “I need to get my dress on.”
I raked my hand over my hair a little harder than necessary, then turned back toward the mirror, knotting my tie. Being frustrated wasn’t going to get me anywhere with Olivia. If something was bothering her, she’d tell me on her own time. That was simply how she operated
I walked out of the bathroom at the same moment Olivia emerged from the closet, sliding a thin, black strap up her shoulder. The black, glittery dress hugged her curves from the deep V of the neckline to her tapered waist before falling gracefully to the floor.
“You look beautiful,” I managed to say without swallowing my damn tongue. My heart jumped, sending my pulse skyrocketing. Just friends, jackass.
“Thank you. Can you zip me?” The slit in her dress revealed the long length of her leg as she turned to present her back.
“Absolutely.” I crossed the room, counting the steps to distract myself from the smooth expanse of skin she’d bared.
Her breath hitched as I pulled the tiny zipper upward.
I was careful not to catch it on the lace of her bra, my fingers brushing against the skin of her back as I held the fabric closed and finished zipping. “All done.”
“Thanks.” She spun slowly to face me, two lines forming between her eyebrows. “You can’t sleep on the couch again.”
“Okay?” I blinked. She was freaked out about the couch?
“My mother will know.”
“Because she’s going to walk in on us sleeping?” I glanced at the heavy, wooden door like the female might be standing there even now.
“No!” Her brow furrowed as she started pacing. “At least, I hope not. Privacy isn’t really a thing around here, but add in that Kranitel celebrates fertility, and it can get a little…” She paused in front of the massive four-post bed.